We Got Fs on it Anyway
by Hollow28
Summary: Kyle is faced with a history project over the Christmas break. A reporter comes to South Park looking for a new story to fill. Cartman decides to help the reporter in his own way, bringing a new extreme incident onto their mountain town. Style and hints of Candy. Please R
1. Chapter 1

oh my gosh hello everyone! I'm very excited to start uploading this story. I will update it every Sunday. please review and tell me what you think!

-Hollow

_(line break)_

He honestly couldn't remember the last time he had been so tired. He wasn't sure how long ago it was since he'd blinked. His vision was slightly blurred as he stared at the computer screen. It was brightly lit compared to the rest of the dark room. His fingers glided across the keys as he typed hastily. How did he ever expect to finish this before the night was over? It seemed impossible.

He took in a large gasp of air, as if he'd forgotten to breathe the entire time he had spent on that single paragraph. The words had all fuzzed together into thick black lines of text. He wasn't sure how much of it would be salvageable by morning.

No. He had to get it over with before he met back with his group, which was…

His eyes fell to the clock at the bottom right corner of the screen.

…in ten hours.

A yawn erupted from him and he shifted closer to the desk, his muscles aching as they were dragged from sleep. His left leg became pins and needles, his right a numb buzz. He let out a sigh and moved his cursor to save what he had typed up. There was no point in writing something if he couldn't even tell what he was saying anymore. He wanted the essay to be quality, not obviously poorly done. That was his justification for dragging himself to his bed, still fully clothed, and drifting to sleep at three in the morning.

_(line break)_

Kyle woke up around eleven, the afternoon light finally bright enough to cut through the curtains. He growled and pushed his head into the pillows, not wanting to move. He could hear people moving around downstairs, his parents, who had most likely already been awake for many hours at that point in time. His eyes slowly opened fully, lingering at the dark monitor on his desk.

Kyle hated sleeping in his clothes. When he fell asleep in his jeans, it was always a really weird feeling in the morning. He felt like a very sweaty, groggy mess that only a shower could fix. He only had two hours before he had to get to the library. He didn't want his parents to know he was awake yet, but he really needed that shower.

He knew he should have gotten further into the essay the night before. He shouldn't have even postponed it for as long as he did, and now they had a week left before a major project was due. He sure as hell knew Cartman wasn't going to do anything to contribute, and who knew what Kenny would be able to help with. Craig was a bit of a wild card; they weren't entirely sure why he had been put in their group in the first place, actually. Kyle wouldn't be surprised if Craig didn't even show up that afternoon.

Stan was their only chance of passing the class before winter break. God, he should have known it would come down to them doing all of the work.

As his hand clasped itself around the mouse and he jumped the computer from sleep mode impatiently, he found himself reading over the essay he had attempted to finish the night before. He cut out everything he had tried to put together and hit the print button at the top of the screen.

"Eighth grade really fucking sucks," he breathed.

_(line break)_

Kenny was the only one at the library when Kyle arrived, surprisingly. Kenny's only explanation was too muffled for Kyle to even catch fully, so he shrugged it off. He was pretty sure he heard the word 'penis' in there somewhere, and that's all he needed and wanted to know. They found a table toward the very back to sit at, amongst a rack of audio books and a wall covered in maps.

"Did you do anything regarding our project this week?" Kyle asked, setting the half-written essay on the middle of the table.

Kenny nodded eagerly, digging around the pockets of his parka. A few seconds later, he pulled out a well crumpled piece of notebook paper and dropped it onto the table top. Kyle picked it up and unfurled it, only to reveal a really terrible drawing of…something…presumably a person? It also had the words "suck my dick" written at the top.

Kyle snorted and tossed the paper at Kenny's head.

"Did you do anything productive regarding our project this week," he rephrased, punching the chuckling blonde in the arm.

"Not really," Kenny muttered.

Stan arrived a few minutes later than Kyle had set the week before. Cartman was following close behind with his arms folded and a sneer on his face as he greeted them with a short "hey, fags."

Stan sat down across from Kyle and let the poster board lean against the end of the table. Kyle could see that a few things had been written and the pictures had been pasted down onto the sides. Kyle watched Cartman expectantly.

"What, you really expected me to show up here with my work done?" Eric scoffed.

"Come on, dude, I'm _not _doing the work for you again," Kyle objected.

"I'm not doing the work for me either."

"But then our project won't get finished!"

"Well, well, well, Kahl, it looks like we have quite the predicament on our hands," Cartman said.

Kyle let out a short puff of air, his face reddened with anger. "I'll tell the teacher you didn't do any work., and you're going to have to deal with the zero."

There was a brief silence as Kyle pulled a piece of blank paper out from under his essay. He slid it across the table toward the heavier boy. Cartman grumbled in distaste, obviously irritated. Cartman took a pencil from his pocket and started to write one of the picture captions. From the front of the library, the sound of the door being opened behind a maze of bookshelves was only slightly audible. Stan twisted around in his seat.

"Oh, god," he groaned.

Wendy Testaburger stepped over one of the blue bean bags set beside a shorter bookshelf with a stack of books in her hand. She put her things down at the table closest to Kyle's, and a few seconds later Token sat in one of the chairs. She said something to him quietly, and then she was walking toward them, her boots softly thudding on the carpeted floors.

"I've gotta go," Stan whispered urgently, standing so quickly his chair almost fell over. He turned the other way and skittered toward the doors.

"Hey, Ky-"

"Way to go, Testabitch," Cartman snickered. "Looks like our little group meet is over, Kahl. Hope you don't mind finishing the photo captions for me." He got out of his seat and walked toward the exit, Kenny following him.

"Sorry, dude," Kenny said, glancing over his shoulder and back to Kyle for a second before going through the library doors.

Wendy stood at the head of the table, her face flushed. She tucked a long strand of black hair behind her ear and sat down in what was Stan's seat. Kyle made a stack of the papers for their project, pulling it closer to his chest.

"I just got him working, too," Kyle sighed begrudgingly.

"Sorry for breaking up your study group, Kyle," Wendy apologized, frowning. "I'm just really freaking out over this project. I don't know what to do! No one's going to take me seriously, and I'm going to look ridiculous in the middle of History class and it's a major grade, and...and I have to put naked pictures on my poster. Pictures of naked Grecian men, Kyle! I can't do this, everything is a disaster_-_"

"Wendy, slow down," Kyle said, cringing. "It's going to be ridiculous for everyone in the class. You're just the only person who could actually make it look _good._"

"I-I guess so," Wendy nodded. "What was your project about again?"

"The possibility of incest in English families during the 1800s."

"Oh," Wendy said. "I guess my topic doesn't seem all that bad, then."

A smile flashed over her face. Kyle sniggered lowly as he pulled the poster board closer to him, re-situating it against the table. Wendy looked over to Token at the other table, who was occupying himself by looking at the summary on the back of one of the audio books. She let out a soft hiss.

"Look, Kyle," she began, turning back to the redhead. "I didn't mean to scare Stan away. I still wanted to be his friend, it's just...things got complicated. I never wanted to hurt him. That's why I broke up with him in the first place. You know that..."

"Yeah, I know."

"Alright, see you around," she said with another small smile, standing and walking back to her table that Token had reserved.

Kyle stared blankly at Cartman's hardly legible handwriting on the piece of paper on top of his essay. He shook his head in dull shock, because he had already guessed that he and Stan would be the only ones to actually get anything done with their project. He let out a long exhale as he grabbed the board and the stack of paper, and was only glad that, as the two in the back kissed, his best friend hadn't been there to see it.

_(line break)_

Stan sat on the bench facing Stark's Pond, skipping a few frost covered stones over its surface. He didn't jump at Kyle's sudden voice that broke through the quiet, because he knew it wouldn't take him too long to find him. He only ever ran off to one place. Even in sixth grade, when his parents were fighting on Thanksgiving, he decided to run away and live on his own but his sister found him in a sleeping bag near the pond freezing his ass off.

"Dude," Kyle said, "not cool."

"Sorry," Stan mumbled, standing up to face him. A few red curls were poking out from under his hat, that same dumb hat he'd had for years. He was a bit out of breath from having to run so far with a huge poster in his arms, but he refused to put it down in the snow.

"Come on, let's go play the Gamesphere or something," Kyle laughed. "We can work on this later. _Without_ that fat asshole."

"Okay, awesome!" Stan grinned, crossing the snow with a set of satisfying crunches and his footprints left behind. He took the poster from Kyle's hands and held it tightly in his own. Kyle tried to put the loose papers into some kind of a stack and held them down at his side, starting away from the pond with Stan at his side.

"You'll be alright, though?" Kyle asked, after a moment's consideration.

Stan rolled his eyes. "Yes, dude," he said firmly.

Kyle glanced at him sharply, his eyebrows raising the slightest bit.

"Oh my god," Stan snorted, his free hand smashing into his face. "I'm fine, dickweed!"

Kyle barked out a laugh and shoved him. He jump started into a fast walk when they turned the corner and could see Kyle's house from the sidewalk. Stan chuckled and shook his head, hefting the poster board over his head and trying to catch up.


	2. Chapter 2

In the end, they decided to try and get as much of the project out of the way before they actually started playing anything. The result was the two of them sprawled out on Kyle's bedroom floor amongst coloured pencils and a set of glue sticks. Stan's hat and jacket was in a pile beside him, and Kyle had pushed his sleeves up around his elbows. A half empty bag of Cheesy Poofs was between them, and they had only successfully completed two more things.

Kyle let his head fall back against the wall, an exasperated groan sliding from his lips. He was annoyed with every single detail of this project and had no inspiration of how to make it better. Naked Grecian men or not, Wendy was going to blow their presentation out of the water no matter how they looked at it.

"Hey, uh," Stan began clumsily, staring down at the carpet, "did Wendy talk about me at the library?"

Kyle sighed. "I don't want to make you upset again, man..."

"She did!" Stan said excitedly.

Kyle looked at him with a blunt and tired glare. "She said she was sorry," Kyle murmured uneasily.

"She's sorry?" Stan echoed. "Do you know what this means? I could totally get her back, dude, and you can help me and we can plan some really big thing-"

"_No,_ dude," Kyle cut him off. "She's with Token now, and if that's what makes her happy, you don't want to get in the way of that."

Stan frowned and nodded. He probably should have stopped going after Wendy at the end of fifth grade, but there was something so spectacular about her. Her hair was always really soft, and she was so opinionated about things, and he actually liked that her temper flared. Her voice was so smooth when she was going off on someone, belittling and ridiculing them all at once. He liked so much about her, he couldn't list it all at once without throwing up.

"Fuck this," Kyle said. "Let's go play some video games."

"That is the best thing I've heard all day."

_(line break)_

Kyle's mom was standing at the door when they climbed down the stairs, and she looked disgruntled. Stan fell back into the couch after putting in a game, a controller already in his hand and another beside him for Kyle.

"Mom? Is everything okay?" Kyle asked.

"Oh yes, some of your little _friends,_" she said stiffly, "are here. I'll let you talk to them, it seems important." She walked back toward her bedroom, revealing Cartman and Kenny in the door. Kenny's shoulders were dusted with snow and he was shivering.

"Some fucking dumbass in a CNN truck almost killed Kinny," Cartman whined.

"Those bastards!"

"Whoa, Ken, are you okay?" Stan asked, getting up from his place on the couch.

"He's fine, butt holes. This happens all the damn time," Cartman snapped. "Now come on, we have to sue the CNN."

"I don't know, Cartman, we have a project to finish," Stan said.

"Yeah, a project you ditched us on," Kyle added.

Cartman stared at them blankly. Kyle turned around and went back up the stairs, only to return a few moments with his and Stan's coats in his arms. Then, somehow, they were following the flustered pair out the door in search of the infamous CNN truck.

_(line break)_

They found it parked outside the Peppermint Hippo, cheering a bit that they had finally been able to locate it. Not that it was truly that hard, because South Park was a small town and there weren't too many places to look, but it was still their victory. They crossed the street and entered the strip club without hesitation; after all, they had been going to it ever since they were in fourth grade, and most people didn't even question their presence there anymore.

The club inside was extremely dirty and the floors buzzed with the music around them. It rattled Kenny's brain, and the uncleanliness of the place caused Kyle to slink behind Stan. There was the washing scent of alcohol and sweat that met them as they went through the doors. An overtone of rushed, static filled speech from the DJ carried over the music. Bright coloured lights flickered across the room and tall, busty dancers walked around in revealing clothing.

Cartman looked at his hand, picking some dirt out of his fingernails. Kyle tried to stifle his snickering—he was sure that no matter how many times Cartman called Kyle a fag, there was nothing more queer about examining your fingernails in a strip club. Stan remained focus on their task, his eyes passing over the males in the crowd, searching for something or someone.

"Hey, Kyle, do you have a dollar?" Kenny asked.

"Sick, dude," Kyle groaned, but pulled out some money from his pocket and put it into Kenny's open hand. The blonde thanked him and ran off toward one of the bustier brunettes with a muffled "woohoo!"

"There," Stan said abruptly, pointing toward a man with an untied tie (which for some reason made Kyle question its purpose around the man's neck) and a somewhat fancy business jacket. "That's the CNN guy."

Cartman powered forward, ignoring several men receiving lap dances as they passed by. He stood behind the man in the suit with a grumpy expression clear on his face, his arms crossed over his chest. He cleared his throat, trying to pull the man's attention away from the girl on the stage in front of him.

"Excuse me," Cartman said loudly.

The man turned, surprised. A few empty beer cans were lined up on the stage in front of him. He already had some sparkles printed on his skin, like a mark somehow showing where he had been. They gleamed in the pink and orange and green lights that cut through the smoky air. Cartman glared at the man, only moving his eyes down to check the name tag that was pinned to the overcoat of the pinstripe suit. Before Cartman had the chance to make a scene in the middle of a strip club, Stan stepped in front of him and greeted the man calmly.

"Hey, you're a reporter, right? So...what are you doing in South Park?" he asked.

"PETA freaked out on us when they found out we had a story over dogs from around the world, so we had to change the programming and they wouldn't throw a fit," the man explained. "I'm looking for a time filler that won't horridly offend people who marry llamas."

"A story?" Kyle snorted. "Why would you-"

"Fuck you guys, I came here for a reason," Cartman groaned, cutting in impatiently. "You almost killed my friend, fucker! Isn't that right, Kinny?"

There was a stretch of silence before Cartman looked around amongst the many dancers and through the smog filled air. Kenny's bright orange parka was hard to miss, but it was nowhere to be seen through the small crowds of people.

"Aw, come on! The fuck, Kinny?"

Kyle let out an annoyed sigh. "Why would you come here for a story?" he finished.

"South Park's got an amazing history," the reporter said, relishing in the stories he had heard as if he were reliving them. "A group of fourth grade boys stopped the oncoming army of giant guinea pigs, and destroyed the largest ring of hippies to ever be witnessed! They defeated the dark lord Cthulu and even diverted a mob of hobos away from their town. A huge smug storm brewed over South Park—it's one of the most interesting places up to date!"

"Yeah, we know, that was us," Stan said flatly.

"That was you?" the reporter said in disbelief. "Then what happened? It's been four years since anything else like that has even come close to occurring."

"I don't know, we've been kind of busy with school and stuff," Kyle mumbled.

The man hummed sympathetically. "Oh how the great have fallen, eh, boys?" He snickered, then said, "I guess not everyone's cut out for a life of never ending adventure. At least what you've done will have lasted."

As he shifted his attention back to the dancer, the boys exchanged uneasy glances before turning away and walking out.

_(line break)_

"He was totally mocking us!" Cartman huffed. "He was calling us boring, and he was right, Kahl. How could you let this happen to us?"

"Why are you blaming this on me?"

"We have to prove him wrong," Cartman said decidedly. "I'm seriously, guys. We'll give him the best cover story he could have asked for."

"No, Cartman, we have a project to work on," Kyle replied. "We don't have time to give him a great cover story, okay? It's not. Our. Problem."

"Like hell it's not our problem! He was calling us out," Cartman shot back.

"I don't care what _he _was doing, I care what you were _not_ doing, and you were not helping us finish that project!" Kyle's voice was escalating in volume and somewhat in pitch, and Stan could tell he was trying his hardest not to punch Cartman square in the jaw. Stan's stomach twisted into knots and he was trying to decide whether or not he wanted to puke into the potted plant by the Peppermint Hippo's entrance. He settled for holding his midsection and leaning against the cold pole that held up the awning over the doors.

"Whatever, Kahl, I can do what I want," Cartman spat.

"Then you're getting a zero," Kyle hissed.

"Fine."

"Fine!"

Cartman twisted around and walked off the other way, not looking back. Kyle let out a frustrated growl, shoving his hands into his pockets. His breath trailed up to the sky in streams of white. He looked at his shoes and the sidewalk, his face flickering from angered to unsettled. He decided on a tired smile when he cast his glance over to Stan, who was watching him worriedly.

"Cartman is such a gaytard," Stan said after a second's silence.

Kyle laughed and nodded. "I swear if he comes back here complaining that he can't think of ideas for the greatest cover story, I'm going to break his arms."

_(line break)_

The door squealed open, the warm air from inside flooding out around the boy in the doorway. Clyde Donovan tucked his hands into the pockets of his Letterman jacket. He ran one hand through his ruffled brown hair, and finally settled on asking, "Cartman? What are you doing here?"

"It's been a while, Clyde," Cartman answered. "Or should I say...Mosquito?"

"You aren't starting that up again, are you?"

"Well, I-"

"Last time you punched me in the nose," Clyde said, and closed the door.

_(line break)_

The second house Cartman visited was extraordinarily larger than the last, with large windows and a long front lawn that was trimmed and frosted with ice. Token answered the door, confused to see the boy awaiting him on his porch.

"Tupperware!"

"Not this time, Cartman," Token sighed, and slammed the door shut.

_(line break)_

Cartman sighed as he lifted a closed fist. He banged on the third door, and a few moments later, a girl with dark black hair answered. She had squirmed her way into a long black dress and fishnets, and a cigarette was wormed between her painted black lips. She smelled like death and smoke, and gave Eric a very bored look.

"Are you here for my stupid little brother?" she said, her voice monotone.

Cartman winced. "Nevermind," he muttered, and turned away.

_(line break)_

Wendy tugged her jacket on, catching a glimpse of the sun setting behind the trees. It was a dark red, and the snow around her reflected the vivid light. It flashed around her in shades of orange and red, like an iced forest fire. Token had to get back to his house before they finished their research—not that they were even able to find much, anyway—and Wendy reassured him she would be fine on her own in the library. She held a couple of books in her hands, recently checked out so she could continue to work on the project at home.

She would _not _let Garrison's awkward prompt trip her up. She would make an A in that class, even if it meant someone's blood on her hands. Alright, she was being a bit extreme, but she really didn't want to make a C. She hadn't ever made one before, and she didn't plan on making one soon.

As Wendy crossed the road and started down the sidewalk adjacent to the library, she realized a somewhat taller and significantly larger figure was heading toward the way she left. As if his turquoise hat tugged down to his eyebrows didn't give him away. Wendy looked over her shoulder and caught sight of the row of houses set behind the library. One of them she knew was Butters' and honestly, who else could Eric possibly be going to see on this side of town?

"Don't you look disappointed," Wendy remarked, stopping in front of him.

"Get out of my way, bitch," Cartman grunted.

"You know, I really don't appreciate you traumatizing Butters with your antics all the time," Wendy continued, ignoring him. Cartman looked like he was going to bite out a comeback, but stopped. He contemplated something over in his mind for a few seconds, and then shook his head.

"Wendy, if I asked you to dress up as a superho—er, superhero—to get on the news, would you do it?" Cartman asked.

"What? You mean like Wonder Woman?"

"Yeah, whatever. Will you help me or not?"

They stared at each other, perfectly still. After a few silent seconds, Cartman crossed his arms. Wendy ran her tongue over her lips and drew in a breath.

"Yes, but you have to help me finish my project first," Wendy said. "Deal?"

She tucked her books under one arm and held out her hand. Cartman looked up at her, muttered "deal," and shook her hand firmly. Wendy grinned widely, and told him to go to her house tomorrow at three o'clock sharp. Then she shuffled past him, leaving him alone on the sidewalk.

Cartman wondered why he ever asked Wendy to become a superhero with him, and why the hell she ever agreed.


	3. Chapter 3

Stan fell out of bed the next morning, in a whirlwind of sheets that had tangled themselves around his body. He was slimed with sweat, his breathing heavier than usual. He pulled himself from the cocoon of blankets and tried to stand. Stan made his way over to the bathroom in a hurry. He tugged off his clothes and started up the shower, trying to force every detail of his dream from his mind when he stepped inside.

He knew boys his age were prone to those kinds of dreams, but..._fuck. _He'd never had one that was so intense and real before. It was almost embarrassing how much he enjoyed it. Maybe that was partially because of who he was with, but still. He could feel his face flushing even thinking about it.

Stan ran a handful of shampoo through his hair, trying to compose a plan for the rest of the day. He found himself wondering when he would work on the poster board. He had all a whole week to work on it before his group's next meet up. Stan could always postpone until the last day before then to work on it. Which, he decided, was exactly what he was going to do.

He dried himself off and slipped back into his room to get dressed, kicking the poster board to a safer location under his bed before putting on new clothes. He tossed his covers back onto the bed in a messy pile and ran down the stairs. He silently wished his parents wouldn't be in the house. All he wanted right now was to be left alone.

He started up his game console, thinking that shooting online players mindlessly would help him forget details and he could always swallow down his guilt at another time. Maybe, he would stop thinking of all of the comparisons he could make between his best friend and his ex-girlfriend. He wouldn't let himself keep having thoughts down that path, because didn't the pastor always tell him that was a sin? And dammit, that meant he was going to burn in the pits of Hell—literally flaming, in every way possible—but.

It was just one dream.

It didn't make him someone he wasn't, and it didn't alter his perspective on who he was attracted to.

It couldn't mean anything.

_(line break)_

"I-I don't know, Eric, I wasn't even a-a part of Coon and Friends last time you started it up," Butters stammered, worriedly looking down at the ground rather than at the boy before him. "Y-you just kept me in a cell and made me eat my own excrement, a-and then my Dad grounded me because he didn't know where I was for four days..."

"Do you want to be on national television or not, Butters?" Cartman huffed.

"W-well, of course I do-!"

"Then why won't you just give in and become a part of Coon and Friends 2? Put Professor Chaos back in action, use your schemes for the greater good of CNN," Cartman interrupted.

"I have to think about it," Butters said reluctantly. He bumped his knuckles together nervously and muttered something under his breath. "Can you come back tomorrow?"

"Goddamn it, Butters, we could be saving the world right now. You better have an answer for me by Friday," Cartman said irritably.

"Okay, I-I will," Butters agreed hurriedly.

Cartman turned and walked off down the street once the door closed in front of him and sighed. This was going to be his future team of super heroes? An ex-villian and a girly pain in the ass? His stomach grumbled and he automatically started off toward the KFC in town. He ruffled up his hair and tried to make himself look as scraggly as possible before he sat down in front of the big double doors. He stared glumly up at the red and white painted Colonel on the sign advertising a new chicken combo.

A couple of people in their mid-thirties walked up to the doors. Cartman sniffled and got their attention with a whimpering, sniffling, "Oh, please don't pass me up! I haven't eaten in days and I'm starving, a-and my mother is sick-"

The girl of the group snorted and started laughing. "You? Homeless?" The man on her arm chortled and muttered something about being too fat to live on the streets. They ignored his angered protests and went inside the fast food restaurant.

_(line break)_

Kenny woke up feeling like he still had a stripper heel embedded into his skull. He groaned and checked his back pockets for Kyle's dollar. Unfortunately, it had not reappeared with him. He rolled off the bed and kicked some of his discarded clothes around on the floor to make a clear path to his dresser.

"Kenny? Are you up?"

He dug around through the second drawer, shifting around his underwear and his dirtier magazines until he found the bottle of painkillers shoved near the back. He opened it and popped two of the pills in his mouth, washing them down with some leftover water from the glass on his side table.

"Damn it, Kenny! Your friend is here!"

Kenny winced at his mother's loud voice, but yelled back that he was awake despite the pain it put his head through. He pulled on a pair of pants that he found hung over the side of his headboard. He went into the living room and was yelled at by his older brother for standing in front of the television, yelled at by his father in the kitchen for sleeping in until noon, and finally made it to the front door.

"I'll be back later," he called out to no one in particular and shut the door behind him. He turned to face Cartman, who looked purposely disheveled.

"What the fuck do you want, Cartman?"

"Kinny, you're poor," Cartman stated. "Can you pretend to be homeless so someone buys us a free lunch?"

Kenny stared at the brunette blankly. Out of all of the ideas that Cartman had come up with, this certainly did not seem like the worst. There didn't seem to be any kind of catch either, except for the fact he'd probably only get one or two pieces of chicken and Cartman would get the rest because he's a fat ass.

"Why can't you do it?" Kenny asked, pulling his hood closer to his face.

"I can't do it because I...uh..."

"Someone called you fat, didn't they?" Kenny snickered.

"Shut the fuck up, Kinny! Do you want lunch or not?"

"Alright, I'll help you, god damn," Kenny said, trying to stifle his laughing before Cartman punched him or something. He wouldn't mind punching back, but his head was throbbing and he wouldn't be surprised if it decided to fall off. It wouldn't be the first time, anyway...

They crossed the street and took a few shortcuts to make the walk shorter. They cleared the distance between the KFC and Kenny's house in no time at all. On the way over, Cartman had insisted on smearing some dirt on his face and clothes, and then slapped him a few times so he'd look more beat up. Kenny sighed and waited through the abuse. Honestly, he'd been through way worse and not gotten a meal out of it.

Cartman slinked around the side of the building and watched as Kenny settled down on the curb. Not a moment later, a bright red car pulled into a spot in the parking lot. She had to be passing through the town—her license plate read "Louisiana." A woman with short brown hair got out and immediately took pity on Kenny as soon as she saw him sitting beside the doors.

"What's wrong, sweetie?"

"I haven't eaten in days, ma'am," Kenny said quietly, looking up at her with big eyes and a frown. "My Dad just lost his job, and we can't pay for our house anymore."

"Oh, you poor thing! I'll go buy you a whole ten piece for your family, just stay right there," she said, her voice sickly sweet. She pulled out her wallet from her purse and walked through the doors. Kenny shot a glance over to Cartman, who was peeking around the side of the building. He flashed him a victorious grin.

"That mother_fucker_," Cartman hissed. "He makes being homeless look so easy."

Kenny came back around to the side of the building with the bucket of chicken in his arms. Cartman pulled out one of the thighs and bit into it, humming with satisfaction as if he'd never eaten a greater meal in his life. Kenny fished out a breast and tried to savor it, but Cartman was already tossing a bone back in with the other pieces and getting out another before he'd even finished.

"Hey, Kinny?" Cartman said around a drumstick.

"What's up, Cartman," Kenny said, throwing his hood over his head.

"I want to prove that CNN asshole we aren't boring, so I thought we could start up Coon and Friends 2, maybe pick up some trouble around here, get him a story," Cartman explained. "You think Mysterion would want in on any of that?"

"I don't know, dude," Kenny shrugged. "Maybe."

"Oh shit!" Cartman said suddenly. "It's almost three. I'm so fucked, man, Wendy's bustin' my balls over here with her project. I gotta go." He pulled the bucket out of Kenny's hands and took off back toward town. Kenny looked up toward the sky and let out a short sigh.

"Dick."

_(line break)_

Wendy chastised him for showing up a few minutes late, and informed him of her prompt and how much she had already finished on her project. There wasn't even all that much left to do, and she told him they could work on her superhero alias as soon as they were done. It wasn't difficult to pick up conversations, as they drifted from topic to topic aimlessly. They mainly referred to what had happened a few years back; another adventure they had been dragged into, or a ridiculous fad their town had picked up on. Cartman had even successfully made her laugh more than once. She always remembered he was actually fun to work with.

At last, when they'd finished, she poured a few Oreos onto a plate and led him upstairs to her room, leaving their work strewn out on the table.

She had found an old purple leotard she could still fit into, and after successfully butchering a ragged bedsheet, she had created a matching cape and mask to go with her costume. Cartman sat on her bed and watched her as she worked, conversing happily about what heroic act they could commit to get onto the news. Wendy kicked up a bit of a fit about how little clothing she was wearing. She wanted to not only go against comic book misogyny-whatever that meant-but she also didn't want to suffer from hypothermia after the ordeal.

"I don't see the big deal, Wonder Woman didn't want to cover up her legs, Wendy," Cartman shrugged.

"Doesn't it go against everything I fight for?"

"And what are you fighting for, exactly?"

"Equality! Rights for every man, woman, and child to be the same, Eric. Oh, pass me an Oreo?"

He stuffed one into his mouth and handed her a cookie of her own, and she ate it in a similar fashion. She walked around the bed and opened her wardrobe. Wendy dragged her extra pair of snow boots from the depths of her closet, as well as her yellow leggings. She couldn't sew very well, so she chopped out a star shape from the blue bed sheet.

"Hand me my stapler?" she requested. Eric grabbed it from her desk and gave it to her. She pinned the star into the a-few-inches-away-from-the-centre of the long-sleeved leotard.

"Have you thought on what your name is gonna be?" he asked.

"Yeah, a little," she admitted. She gathered all of her various equipment and headed for the door. "I'll be right back."

Cartman nodded and looked around at her walls. She had a few posters hung up, and a picture of her and Bebe from the sixth grade sat in a frame beside her computer. He caught sight of a few sticky notes stuck onto the monitor. Little reminders or positive phrases written in her own curvy handwriting. The light from the window dimmed slightly, and he pulled off his knit cap to set it down beside him. The door was thrown open, causing him to jump.

"I am the truth, I am judgment personified," she said, her voice steady. She whipped her cape behind her and struck a pose. "I am...Lady Justice!"

Eric barked out a laugh and she turned around quickly to face him.

"What?"

"Lady Justice," he echoed. "Are you seriously?"

"Yes, I'm totally seriously! I-I mean, I'm totally serious. Don't you think it's a good persona?"

"Whatever you say, Wendy."

"We should ask Bebe to join!" She turned to look at the picture on her desk, swishing her cape behind her as she did so.

"Uh, no."

"Why not? We could be like Harley Quinn and Cat Woman-"

"Those're bad guys."

"-because they were good friends, right? I don't really keep up with DC all that much." She made a vague motion with her hands. If Cartman squinted, he could read the tiny print titles of girly fantasy books on her shelves. The only thing relative to a comic was a thin graphic novel he didn't recognize.

She turned back to him and smiled. "Well, what do you think?"

Her black hair had been pulled back into a ponytail, swept away from her face and her hat was discarded. He couldn't think of anyone from his old Coon and Friends crew who had been able to pull off the superhero look as well as she did.

"Pretty fucking bad ass."


	4. Chapter 4

Okay, so I may have lied a bit about when my updates will be. They will either be on Saturday _or_ Sunday, depending on whenever I find time on the weekend! Thank you all for reading, and I appreciate any feedback you give me. By the way, Jimmy is in this chapter, but I don't type out his stammering, as I found it tedious to write and read. Thanks much!

-Hollow

_(line break)_

"Kyle, where are you going?"

"None of your business, Ike," Kyle replied shortly, lacing up his boots tightly, his usual jacket slung over his shoulders.

"Can I come with you?" he pressed on, ignoring Kyle's grumbling remarks.

Kyle pulled his jacket on, fumbling with the buttons a bit. "Mom, I'm going back to Stan's!" he called over his shoulder.

"I want to go, too," Ike chimed in loudly.

"No, dude, I already told you-"

Sheila entered the living room, her bright red hair piled in an up-do and her hands on her hips. "Kyle, take your little brother with you," she said, enunciating carefully.

"Mom, he doesn't even-"

"Don't talk back to me, Kyle!"

"Alright, sorry," he replied hastily. He sighed in defeat and stood up. "Let's go."

Ike grabbed his own coat and slipped it on before bouncing excitedly out the door. Kyle took large steps through the thick layer of snow on the yard, leaving a trail of footprints that Ike tried to match. Kyle tugged his hat back down, hiding a few rogue curls.

"What are you going to Stan's for?" Ike asked, smoothing his short black hair down. He had recently started fourth grade, and it seemed that the teachers were startled at how articulate he had become. He'd never been very loud when he was younger, and now it felt like he never shut up.

"We're almost done with our project," he explained. "If you promise to be good and help us glue stuff, you can stay, alright?"

"Promise!"

Kyle stopped at the Marsh's door briefly to wipe the snow off the bottom of his shoe on the scratchy welcome mat. He didn't even have to knock anymore; he'd stopped doing that at the end of fourth grade.

Stan was up in his room, playing something on his computer. He paused it and swiveled the computer chair around to face him. He tensed for a second, but relaxed after Kyle threw him a confused look. Ike sat down on Stan's bed and Kyle shut the door behind him.

"Hey, dude," Stan said. "Uh, what's your brother doing here?"

"He wouldn't stop bothering me, so my Mom forced me to take him along," Kyle groaned.

"I'm _right here._" Ike frowned for a second. Then, he said teasingly, "What, are you guys worried about being unable to make out or something now that I'm here?"

Stan turned bright red and stammered. Kyle burst out laughing.

"As if, shithead," he snorted. "Stop getting us wrapped into your freak fantasies."

"Hey, Kyle, did you want to work more on the notes before we finished the poster?" Stan asked, trying to pull the conversation in another direction. He turned back to the computer and shut off the game. Kyle leaned back against the door, arms crossed over his chest.

"Actually, I was more worried about whatever Cartman's planning," he admitted. "We haven't heard from him in a few days, so he's gotta be busy working on some crazy scheme to get on the news."

"I can ask if Kenny's seen him around," Stan offered.

"Yeah, I'll-"

"I can go alone," Stan cut in. "Since, you know, the project means a lot to you. I don't want you to get a bad grade. I can call you later or whatever..."

Suddenly, Kyle was at his side. He put a hand on Stan's shoulder, who pulled away sharply. He fought the bile climbing up in his throat. That wasn't a good sign. He knew what that meant, and he knew that wasn't how he was supposed to feel. Kyle frowned, worried.

"You alright, dude?"

"Sorry, I haven't been feeling very well," he lied, but Kyle accepted his answer and didn't press further.

"Come on, Ike. Call me later, okay?"

Stan nodded and waved, forcing a smile before the brothers went down the stairs.

_(line break)_

Kenny's house was filled with screaming and fighting when he answered the door. He stepped out onto the porch, which seemed completely silent in contrast to the cacophony sealed behind him. He jammed his PSP into the pocket of his hoodie and watched the dark haired boy in front of him calmly.

"Hey, Kenny."

He mumbled something in response.

"Kyle said he wanted to figure out what Cartman was up to, so I was wondering if he'd said anything to you?" Stan asked.

"Yeah, we talked on Wednesday," he nodded. "He was still trying to convince me to join his new group of superheroes. He said they were having a meeting at his house on Saturday? Something like that..."

"Oh, that's tomorrow!"

"Is it?" Kenny looked off at something behind Stan, his eyes glazed over. He blinked slowly. He missed all of Thursday, since he had been smashed into the pavement by an eighteen wheeler that didn't want to slow down and the registration lines at Hell were running extremely slow. "Huh. I guess it is."

"Um, hey, Ken?" Stan asked. His face was burning as he heard himself ask, "Have you ever thought..._that way_ about a guy before?"

Kenny barked out a laugh, surprised. "Yeah, who hasn't?"

"What do you think I should do?"

Kenny went silent, thinking over what he should tell Stan. The longer he was quiet, the more restless Stan became. Someone called his name from inside the house, jerking him from his thoughts.

"I'll be right there, Karen!" he said back. He looked back at Stan, whose eyebrows had raised considerably. "I think you should go for it."

"Really?"

Kenny shrugged, and hurried back into the house.

_(line break)_

Butters and Jimmy sat beside one another in the living room, chattering excitedly about the premiere for a long awaited show they were both eager to watch. Jimmy had wanted to watch the new show and try his new jokes out on Butters, which he insisted were even better than his last act.

Two long, dark shadows engulfed them. Butters and Jimmy turned to look over the edge of the couch, only to find a pair of masked figures standing before them. The first was in a crude rehashing of a raccoon themed outfit. The second in a leotard with a cape and a mask.

"Well?"

"W-well, what?" Butters stammered.

"Are you going to join us, Professor?" the girl asked.

"Um, m-my Mom said I could only have one friend over at a time," he said, messing with his hands nervously.

"Answer the question, Chaos, before you make me doing something I'd kind of regret," the Coon sighed. He uncurled his fist to show off a long set of claws.

Jimmy threw Butters an incredulous look.

"Wow, that's pretty impressive," Jimmy remarked.

"Care to join our league?" the Coon offered, raising an eyebrow by a fraction of an inch. "We're going to be on the news and everything."

Butters watched with dismay as his friend nodded eagerly. He sighed and stood up, slinking past Wendy and Cartman and climbing the stairs with a small, "I'll go get my stuff."

The noise from the living room faded as he entered his bedroom. It was extremely tidy, because he was constantly reminded by his parents that it had to be so or else he would be grounded. And because of its cleanliness, it only took a few minutes of dragging boxes from his closet to find which one held his old cape in it. His gauntlets still fit fairly well on his hands, but he had to use the rest of the aluminum foil roll to expand the boots and helmet.

Each step he took as he descended the stairs made the chain that held the cape around his neck rattle. He smoothed his tousled hair back down and stopped at Eric's side.

"Welcome back to Coon and Friends, Professor," the Coon said, acknowledging his new attire.

"Eric, I was never a part of the Coon and-"

"Shut up, Butters."

_(line break)_

Wendy was pleased with the way things were going for her alias. She'd been given Jimmy as her sidekick, and they'd spent most of the afternoon working on his own costume. She finally got back to her house around seven, and she climbed up the stairs to get changed before her father called her down for dinner.

She let her hair down and dropped her mask off on her bed, catching sight of her phone buzzing on her bedside table. She hit the green button and pressed it to her ear.

"Hello?" she answered.

"Wendy, I tried calling you earlier but you didn't answer." It was Token. He sounded relieved she'd finally picked up.

"Sorry about that," she said. She sat down on the bed and stifled a yawn. "I was on some 'official business.'"

Token didn't say anything until she asked if he was still there.

"Yeah, uh, I was wondering if you wanted to finish the project tomorrow?"

"I already finished it! Cartman helped me," she replied. "I did the finishing touches yesterday, too. It looks great, by the way."

"Oh. Do you still want to hang out tomorrow?"

She hummed, grimacing. "I don't think so, I'm going to be busy again. Cartman and I-"

"You've been hanging out with him a lot, Wendy. You haven't even said anything to me since we met up at the library. What the hell's going on?" he asked.

"Nothing, I'm just-"

"Didn't you kiss him before?"

The question startled her. "Token, it's not like that," she squeaked. "That was four years ago. And...and how dare you even accuse me of cheating on you! If you can't trust me, maybe we shouldn't be together _anyway_."

"You seem eager to get out of-"

"Token, I have to go eat dinner, alright? I'm sorry, but I can't see someone who doesn't know that I'd never cheat on them. Goodbye," she replied, and mashed the end call button with her thumb.

Their relationship hadn't been too serious, but she felt her stomach twist at his accusations. It could have been a much more explosive break up. She'd been too tired to let it carry on like that. She kicked off her boots, wrapped up in her cape and fell back onto the pillows.

"Over the phone," she huffed to herself. "I can't believe him."


	5. Chapter 5

Just a warning, I also do not write out Christophe/The Mole's accent in the chapters that contain him. Please review! This is one of my favourite chapters, so please tell me what you thought of it! Thanks!

-Hollow

_(line break)_

The following Saturday was the warmest day that winter, and the ice over Stark's Pond was turned to slush. The clouds were long fish bones in the dark blue sky. The air was thick in Cartman's basement, the fan cutting through it lazily as it spun above them.

Cartman had hung up a blue banner, displaying the newest logo for Coon and Friends in dark black acrylic paints. A long table was set in the middle of the room, and a few extra gadgets and additions to their newest headquarters sat around them. Cartman took his place at the head of the table, his hair smoothed back and his face hidden by his raccoon mask.

"Alright, let's begin this meeting with the introduction of our newest member."

Dog Poo stood at the foot of the stairs. He wore green ski goggles and a yellow pair of gardening gloves, but his attire remained unchanged otherwise. The dirt on his face had been streaked to look like a pair of cat whiskers on his cheeks.

"Who's he supposed to be?"

"Professor; Lady Justice; Patriotic Paraplegic; I'd like you to greet Cat Piss."

Wendy waved awkwardly as he took his seat beside Butters. She folded her arms in her lap. She hadn't been so sure about what to do with her cape when she sat down, so it poked strangely out from the folding chair she had been placed in.

"Anyway, we're going to make a promise not to leave Coon and Friends 2, even after I announce my new plan, got it?" Cartman asked.

"Affirmative, Coon," Wendy replied.

"Hey, uh, I-I thought I was supposed to be a villain…" Butters trailed off.

"You're on our side now! Now, repeat after me: I pledge allegiance—"

Jimmy cleared his throat. Cartman sighed heavily.

He started again, "I _parapledge _allegiance, to the Coon and Friends, that I will not leave and turn against the league, no matter what the Coon's next plan may be."

He waited patiently for everyone to finish reciting his words and he smiled, pleased that everyone had automatically complied. They fell into a brief silence, awaiting his next announcement.

After a moment, Jimmy asked, "What's your big plan anyway?"

"We need something to fight against in order to get on the news, correct?"

"What are you getting at," Wendy asked.

"We're going to summon Damien!"

Wendy gave him a confused look. Her eyebrows knit together. Of course she remembered the young demon. He'd transferred into their class in fourth grade, and he'd been a character difficult to forget. Then again, she could also recall clearly his father taking him back to the seventh layer to finish his 'training' or something relative.

"His dad's been trying to keep him in Hell since fifth grade, Cartman," Wendy remarked.

"Yeah, but it's totally cool. If we open a portal to Hell, we get to fight all his demon buddies and save South Park! That's an awesome news story in itself," he argued. He was determined to not let his plan get shot down.

"I don't know if that's a good idea," Butters said, straining to keep his voice steady. "My Dad wouldn't like it if he found out we sent a bunch of demons out on our own town."

"Do we even have any books on that?"

A dog started to bark loudly outside the small square window that let light into the basement. Cartman groaned in frustration.

"Who the fuck brought a dog to our meeting?"

Dog Poo uttered out a quiet apology.

"Whatever." He paused. Then, ordered, "Just find a way to open that portal!"

_(line break)_

"Shh, I can't hear what they're saying!" Kyle hissed, crouching beside the window to Cartman's basement. His cheeks and nose were flushed bright red, like they normally did when he stayed out too long in even mildly cold weather. His gloved hands were planted firmly in the sludge of snow, and he didn't mind if his pants got soaked as he leaned in to get a better look. He declared himself best at reading lips, and it was his job to be translator.

"Okay, they're sitting down," he narrated aloud. "Is that Wendy?"

"Aw, fuck, she's working with Cartman?" Stan moaned. He moved closer to the window, sitting down next to Kyle. Their arms brushed together, and he shot backwards, alarmed. Kyle didn't turn from the window.

"Hey, I—holy shit!"

"You cussed, I'm telling Mom," Ike sang teasingly. He stood in front of one of the hedges by the front porch, his face turned toward the empty street.

"Shut up, Ike," Kyle shot back.

"What's happening?" Stan asked.

Kyle turned his head to catch Stan's gaze. "I think he said he wanted to summon Damien!"

"What the hell?"

"Literally." Kyle grinned his usual half smile when he'd said something clever and he knew it.

Ike caught something moving in the corner of his eye. Its skin was flabby and hung around it loosely, like a coat. Its face appeared mashed, dark round eyes glaring at him. It snuffled and grunted menacingly, and saliva dripped down its large jaw. And it was only about one foot tall.

The bulldog ran toward Ike, barking and snarling. Its leash had been wrung around one of the snow covered logs beside the front steps.

"Fuck!" Ike jumped out of its reach. He bolted down the street.

"Ike, hold on—" Kyle said, frantically trying to get away from the window. Stan hovered beside him, trying to keep the dog quiet, but it wasn't working. Kyle grabbed Stan's hand and pulled himself up.

"Run," Ike called, lingering at the corner before continuing to put distance between him and the dog at Cartman's house. Stan and Kyle finally caught up when he stopped in front of a pale green house. Ike doubled over, his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

"That was close," Stan sighed.

"Ike, stay out of this, okay? If you get attacked by a demon, Mom's gonna kill me!" Kyle said.

He pulled his blue jacket around him closer. He frowned, but nodded. "I'll tell her you're staying with Stan again," he said. Ike called out a good luck before running off in the direction of their street, making a point in staying as far from the yelping dog as possible.

Stan tugged one of his gloves off and shook it. It was still somewhat damp with melted snow. He stuffed his hand back inside and started to walk up toward his house. Kyle matched his pace, his eyes downcast. Stan could tell he was thinking, and he knew what was coming next.

"We have to tell someone," Kyle said.

"Yeah, because someone's gonna know how to help us," Stan scoffed. He drifted to the opposite edge of the sidewalk, a gaping space set between him and Kyle. "They probably don't even know how to open it."

"I guess so," Kyle murmured, uncertain. "You think we can talk them out of it?"

"I'm not talking to Wendy, and—and Cartman would never let you convince him not to do it. That'd probably just motivate him more."

They stopped at the next corner. An SUV clicked on its blinker and turned down the street they were about to cross. The space between the two of them had grown.

"Stan."

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?" Kyle was watching him carefully. Stan could see a few frizzier curls tucked behind his ears, as if he were trying to hide them from anyone and everyone.

"I had a weird dream," Stan admitted. He laughed. Stuck his hands in his pockets. "It's probably nothing, but it kinda threw me off."

"Did you dream the son of the antichrist would be paying us a visit?" Kyle chuckled.

"I'm secretly clairvoyant." He wiggled his eyebrows. Kyle broke into a grin. Stan stepped off the curb, continuing up the street. Kyle faltered beside him.

"I have to go to Kenny's," Kyle said. "I'll see you later, alright?"

"Sure," Stan agreed, and he paused to watch his friend run across the side street and head toward the other side of town.

_(line break)_

As Butters and Dog Poo Petuski helped Jimmy up the stairs, Cartman took off his mask and pinched the bridge of his nose. The dog had stopped barking outside, and the only sound was the slice of the fan above and a few doors opening and closing as the others left. Wendy crossed her ankles under the table.

"Any ideas?"

Wendy pressed her lips together. Of course she had ideas, but she wasn't sure if they were what Cartman wanted to hear. They mostly consisted of human sacrifices, and in those scenarios they coincidentally had to use Token for various reasons. She'd kept her temper under control for the span of the meeting, but she felt it bubbling under her skin again without something to distract her.

"Well...we need to talk to someone who's died before," she said slowly.

"Oh, that's-"

Eric almost offered Kenny, but he recalled how well it had gone last time he'd mentioned the blonde dying. He seemed to be the only one who actually realized that Kenny continuously returned. Not even Stan and Kyle could say for sure that Kenny returned. Cartman had already tried various operations to prove they'd all experienced a glitch in the Matrix. Rather than having to explain to Wendy the strange resurrections Kenny had managed to pull off time and time again, he racked his brain to pick out someone who'd come back from Hell itself.

"Wait. What about the Mole?"

Wendy brightened. "Yeah! I still have Gregory's number on my phone, actually..." She trailed off as she reached down into her boot and pulled out her cell. It was a bit beaten up around the edges, and was extremely outdated when placed beside Bebe's.

"Are you really going to call him right now?"

"Yeah, why not," she shrugged. "Demon conjuration spells might take a while to pull off."

She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and flipped the phone open. Cartman watched her as she trained her attention on locating the correct number. She pressed a button and put the phone up to her ear.

"What if he changed his number or something-?"

She shushed him, flicking her hand at him hectically. Cartman could hear the static filled message playing back. He caught the word "redirected" and a string of numbers. Wendy looked back at the key pad and entered the new number in.

"Did you get-"

"Be quiet, Cartman!"

He bit back a retort when she started speaking into the phone. Her voice became practiced and polite, as if there were some sort of telephone etiquette he was missing out on. She thanked him multiple times, and when she hung up, Cartman bothered her until she told him what he couldn't hear.

"He said he'd get Christophe, and that they would be happy to help me," Wendy said. "I doubt it's going to be cheap, Eric. They said this whole summoning thing has a specific ritual he needs to follow in order to bring a regular demon to the surface, let alone one of royalty."

He frowned. "Hey, I never agreed to giving them anything! The cheap bastards are going to rob us of our money. I bet it's all part of some weird mercenary scam!"

The ground below them began to shake and rumble. Wendy grabbed the edge of the table, trying to keep herself from falling out of her chair. Cartman went tumbling to the floor, flinging obscenities as he did so.

"You said he was getting Christophe, did he fucking mean _right now_?"

"That's what he told me!" Wendy's stomach tightened and she squeezed her eyes shut. She'd had plenty of Stan's barf on her clothes in the fourth grade. She really didn't want to add some of her own to the collection.

The room calmed, and the basement floor was split. The darkened opening to a cavernous tunnel was left behind. Cartman coughed and sat upright, squinting as he saw the familiar outline of a boy with dark, messy hair appear in the cloud of dust. Wendy's head was still spinning when the Mole helped Gregory up and into the basement.

"Sorry about our entrance," Christophe said gruffly, his accent blurring his words. He flicked the butt of his burnt out cigarette back into the crawlspace. Gregory slicked his hand through his hair and straightened his posture.

"Pleasure to see you again, Wendy." He nodded curtly.

She beamed. "No, thanks for helping us. It's not every day you get to summon a demon."

Christophe chuffed and muttered under his breath,"Maybe not for you."

Gregory shot him a sharp look. The Mole glared up at him, retrieving the shovel from the loosened soil and attaching it onto the strap.

"We'll need a few days to find the proper books and ingredients for the ritual," the blonde said, turning to face her.

Christophe spat into the hole. "Tu pense que nous travaillons gratuitement?" he asked angrily.

"Right, the means of payment. I assume you've got it with you?"

Cartman reached into the folds of his Coon costume. He grumbled and handed him the large wad of bills. Gregory flipped through them, his eyebrow cocking upward.

"These are all ones-"

"I'll fill the rest of the payment later," Wendy assured him. "Thank you."

"Of course, anything for you," Gregory replied. Cartman gagged.

Christophe tugged Gregory by the collar back to the entrance of his tunnel. They disappeared in a flurry of soil, the ground buzzing low beneath their feet as the mercenaries dug in a separate direction.

"Do you think we could open the portal in front of Token's house?"

"What the fuck? Why?"

"Oh. Uh, no reason."


	6. Chapter 6

Alright everyone, sorry this is going to be such a short chapter. My next one is insane long though, so! Thanks everyone keeping up with my story.

Also, a thanks to SP-CrazyKitty, who drew some fanart for the Coon and Friends II. Since ffn won't let me post links, you can find it at their deviantart: angelaaaa777

End of note, and happy reading!

_(line break)_

The boys walked around to the side of the house and leaned up against the wall, the sky fading into shades similar to cat vomit. The trees shook snow from their branches in the wind, and if you looked closely, you could catch animal tracks pressed into the snow. Kenny held an ice cream cone in his hand, taking bites out of it with a loud crunch every few minutes.

"Hey, I—what are you eating?"

"Ice cream," Kenny said between bites.

"You got ice cream for dinner?" he asked incredulously, looking around at the murky snow under their feet.

"No, just the cone."

Kyle stretched his arms up over his head and tried to disguise a yawn as a drawn out exhale. The sound of the cone crunching and the drone of a car passing filled the air inside their comfortable silence.

"Cartman wants to summon Damien," Kyle said, "and it doesn't look like there's a chance of changing his mind about it. Stan said not to pay attention to their plans. He thinks there's no way they could pull that off, but Cartman—I _know _he's not going to let improbability stop him. We've gotta do something!"

"Damn."

_Crunch, crunch, crunch. _Swallow.

"I'm putting fires out all over this week."

"What?"

Kenny shrugged, dismissing him. He didn't want to tell Kyle about his encounter with Stan earlier. That shit was classified. Totally private. He wouldn't tell anyone until advised otherwise.

"I'll take care of it," he said instead, and he held up one covered hand, his pinky lifted up into the air.

Kyle stared at him. "I'm not making a pinky promise with you."

Kenny's eyebrows arched upward. His hand remained unmoving.

"What are you, five?"

The only reaction he received was a confident smirk. Kyle wrapped his pinky around Kenny's firmly. They broke apart when Kenny pulled back and finished the remains of the cone. He pulled on the strings of his parka, bringing it back up over his mouth.

_Crunch, crunch, crunch._

When Kyle had turned off the corner and left his street, he felt his excuse for a dinner catch in his throat. His vision darkened and he was choked to another death.

_(line break)_

The dirt flew up around him, and he burned his way through the underground. He paused to light up another cigarette and bring it to his mouth. He sent a spiral of ashes down onto his boots and continued to dig. He met up with another one of his tunnels, his dark brown eyes scanning through the darkness. He'd found the right one. The Mole reached for the communication device strapped to his belt. He untangled the wire and held the can up.

"Reporting in," he said, smoke flooding up around him. He waited a few seconds, then held it up to his ear.

No one answered.

"Gregory, do you copy? Is the chicken noodle receiving well?"

"I'm not replying until you use the code names we assigned at the base." Gregory's voice came back to the Mole's ears sounding tinny and far away, because Gregory was speaking into aluminum and was, quite frankly, far away.

Christophe spat, "I'm not going to call you _Monsieur _Darcy."

"Don't tell me you're getting uppity because you're Resetti."

Christophe scowled and dropped the tomato soup can where he stood. He felt the ground slowly inclining as he walked forward. When he saw pale light flooding in near the top, it took his eyes mere seconds to adjust to the oncoming brightness. His fingers dug into the earth and he climbed up.

Cartman was standing at a blackboard he'd dragged into the basement, scribbling out a poor rendition of what he had in mind for the demon summoning. It included where the demons would specifically attack—he made a point of them taking the school under siege—and where the portal could and could not be opened. The Mole clapped once, loudly.

"Fuck!" Cartman whirled around. "Don't British people have manners programmed in them or something? Stop barging in here without telling anyone."

"I'm French, you fat fuck," Mole frowned. He crossed his legs and sat on the ground, watching the hole. He silently counted back from ten, and as soon as he'd mouthed the word 'zero,' Gregory climbed out beside him.

He had a leather bound book tucked under his arm, the pages a sun bleached yellow. The cover had a symbol etched into it. He set the book heavily down on the table. It seemed to sigh as he set it down, and a coat of dirt and dust fluffed into the air around it.

"We've found the right book," he said.

"Yeah, sweet, totally," Cartman replied, his voice trailing up in pitch. "Where the fuck's my demon?"

Gregory turned to a seemingly random page in the book, and he pointed his index finger to the top of the page. Incantations of a language Cartman couldn't read nor identify were inscribed in faded ink. "It says here the ritual's to be done on a new moon, due to his status in the underworld. Fortunately for us, the new moon's this Monday. We've already made a list of ingredients and procedures based on the instructions here."

"It requires a personal sacrifice."

Cartman looked over to the boy sitting beside the hole.

"Like what?"

"Something that is of value to you or Wendy," he shrugged.

"I trust you can sort out what that'll be. I'll also need you to get a silver ring and a whisker from a cat," Gregory said. "Those should be fairly easy to acquire. We'll be here on Monday at nine o'clock sharp. Be here or our arrangement is off."

They dropped back into the tunnel, arguing quietly as they headed back the way they came. Cartman looked at the book on the table, squinting his eyes at the strange text.

"Zomezing zat eez of value," he said, mimicking Christophe's accent. He rolled his eyes and returned to drawing out his plans. "Like I'm gonna to give something up."


	7. Chapter 7

Sorry for updating so late in the day, editing this was a huge task to take on! Also, my marching band went to competition, and we placed in third. This is a much better result than our last contest (lmao). Well, enough about me. Let's get to the chapter!

_(line break)_

Eric pet Mr. Kitty's dark gray fur and pulled at one of her whiskers. Mr. Kitty squirmed out of his arms. She'd left him with a few battle scars on his arm, but he'd obtained what he was going after. He'd already taken one of his mother's silver rings; he had to slip inside her room when she was out on a dinner date, and he'd already suffered intensive questioning from her.

"Poopsykins, have you seen my ring?"

And even, "Are you _sure _you didn't see where I set it down?"

He'd kept it safe in his room, hidden away so she couldn't find it. Cartman already had talked to Wendy the day before, and she told him that she could get the personal item to sacrifice.

"Sweetie, I have a party to go to tonight," Liane Cartman said, stopping in front of the television. She had her hair pulled back, and her dress was a dazzling red. Before he could complain about her standing in the way, she moved a few inches over and hugged him. "Eric, I left some pizza and snacks for you. Brush your teeth before you go to bed. No friends over. You're old enough now to stay by yourself."

"Mom—" he whined.

"I've got to go now. No imprisoning the Jewish, okay? I love you!" she called, hurrying to the door and going out to the car, a bright beacon amongst the tinted gray snow.

Cartman went up into his room, drawing the curtains shut. Carefully, he put the cat whisker down on the top of the wardrobe. He changed into his Coon uniform and retrieved the silver ring. It had been stashed in a secret compartment in the wooden drawers by the door. He slipped it into his pocket. The doorbell sounded loud through the empty house. The clock on his bedside table read 8:57. She was early, as usual.

"Eric?"

And she'd let herself in.

He grabbed the whisker and found himself face to face with Lady Justice and Professor Chaos down in his living room. Wendy held her pink beret tightly in her hand. They followed him to the creaking wooden stairs into the basement.

The mercenaries were just getting on their feet. Christophe held a bag, and he pushed the table out of the centre of the room before pouring the contents onto its top. Butters stood off to the side, eying the amethyst crystals and rubbing his hands together nervously.

"Where's the rest of your superhero crew?" Gregory asked absently, double checking that everything was accounted for.

"J-Jimmy said he was going to something with his parents, a-and Dog Poo said his bed time's at ten, so he didn't wanna come," Butters said with a near blank expression.

Gregory nodded, and asked, "You brought a sacrifice, too?"

"What's going to happen to it?" Wendy asked, looking down at her hat nervously. It was well worn and washed many times, its colour slightly faded and it had been softened and stretched by constant wearing.

"It will be burned, along with the rosemary," Christophe said idly, dropping a pair of rat tails beside the four yellow candles. Gregory glanced up at him. "They were smashed, not poisoned, don't worry."

"This faggot better agree to help us out," Cartman grumbled, taking the ring from his pocket and tossing it out onto the table. He held onto the whisker, afraid that if he dropped it, he'd have to track down his already angered cat again. Gregory reached into the bag and his hand clasped around the eyeball.

"There it is," he said, placing it by three mockingbird feathers.

"What's that?" Butters asked.

"Newt's eyeball."

Butters gulped and grimaced, fiddling with his fingers.

"Did you get the blood from the butcher's?" Gregory asked, kneeling to strategically set the candles down on the floor. Christophe tossed the blonde his lighter. He drew the flames lazily across the wicks. Gregory went back to Wendy's side.

"As if I had time to do that shit. I'll just use my own," he shrugged, pulling out a knife and discarding his glove into the corner of the room.

"What? Chris, wait-!"

"I-I can't look at blood for a long time or else I'll pass out," Butters cried out, covering his face.

Christophe dug the knife across his palm, the dark blood rushing fast to the surface. He hissed, a sharp noise between his teeth. He was trying to show indifference to the pain. He dragged his hand across the flooring, making a shaky circle inside the border of candles.

"Oh my god," Wendy said, eyes wide.

"God's the last bastard you need to call upon," the Mole replied, and pressed his other hand over the cut, the fingerless glove absorbing most of the blood.

"This is exactly why I said you have impulse issues," Gregory groaned, putting the amethyst down at the top of the circle and the ring at the bottom.

"I do not have issues!"

Gregory chuckled as Christophe handed him the bloodied knife. Wendy offered to help, and she was sent to place each feather in a specific spot of the circle. Gregory cut the tails and the eye into a mixture, then sprinkled it over the ground.

"I don't mean to interrupt your hippie dance or whatever, but what the hell are you doing?" Cartman asked.

"That book we found—_The Lesser Key of Solomon_—said everything was to be done exactly like this, or else it wouldn't work," Gregory explained.

"Yeah, okay," Cartman laughed. He fixed his mask on his face.

"I need to remain focused when I do this, so allow me to concentrate, please," Gregory said shortly. "Wendy, I need you to burn the hat first. Cartman, you burn the whisker, and Butters can do the rosemary. Do them at different candles."

Wendy swished her cape behind her, kneeled down, and ran her hands over the hat. She brought it to the candle's flame and the fire seemed to swallow it whole. She dropped it into the circle, exhaling slowly as the fabric turned from pink to black and faintly glowing orange. When she looked up, Butters was trying to hold the sprig of rosemary as far from him as possible as the flame burned through it. Cartman had already finished burning his whisker and gave her a bored look. Gregory began to mutter the incantation.

"Is it working?" Cartman asked.

"Don't break his focus, douche nozzle," Christophe snapped.

"Rectus…Dominus…Cheesy Poofs!"

The candles blew out all at once. The darkness around them became more apparent, closing in on them. The circle began to glow, radiating a pale blue light that twisted the shadows on their faces. The ground seemed to turn to light, and a figure began to materialize from the air.

Damien stood before them, his eyes dark and his thick eyebrows were knit together in brief confusion. A large bag of popcorn was in his hands. He scowled and let out an exasperated grunt.

"Damn it, not again. What do you cocksuckers want?"

Cartman stepped closer to the circle and took a handful of the popcorn. He ate a piece before saying, "Listen, fart boy, I need you to open a portal to Hell for me."

"It is important you know he does not want the portal opened in his basement," Christophe added, his right hand still clutching the left.

"That's it?" Damien asked.

"That's all we want you to do," Cartman nodded.

"Um, Eric, maybe you shouldn't call Damien 'fart boy' anymore because he could open the portal in your asshole," Butters stuttered. Christophe snickered and Wendy brought her hand over her mouth, trying to hide her smile.

"He has a point," she said.

"Shut the fuck up!"

Damien knocked Cartman a few steps away from him and wiped his hands on his black sweater. He looked at Wendy and asked, "You were the one who made the sacrifice?"

She nodded.

"Are you sure this is what you want?"

Another nod.

"By giving me the personal sacrifice, you're in charge of where the portal is to be opened," he said.

"I heard Stark's Pond is rather empty this time of year," Wendy said, and Damien grinned.

"Stark's Pond it is."

_(line break)_

He flicked on the light and sat down at his computer, fighting back a yawn. He had to try and have the upper hand, and there was nothing like doing some research late in the evening. Kyle opened the browser and entered something vague and general about demon summoning into the search engine. He wasn't sure if he should be surprised or expecting the large number of results that came up.

"Huh," he muttered, clicking the first link.

The first three links weren't to be trusted, due to their lack of proper grammar. It might have been snobby to make this the rule for staying on a certain page, but if they were truly pulling things from ancient text books, he didn't think there should be so many errors and things that made him think they were trying too hard.

He went back to the results page and clicked on the fifth link. The sudden change from white to black on his screen made his eyes hurt. He blinked a few times, trying to read the text displayed before him:

'The _Lesser Key of Solomon_, basic summoning rituals and incantations for all your chaotic needs.'

He skimmed the rest of the paragraph. It was kind of cheesy, but it also seemed to take itself very seriously. Apparently, if you were to actually get your hands on the book, its spells actually worked. He dragged his cursor to the left side of the page and clicked on one of the hyperlinks.

Looking through this site was actually pretty grueling. If he'd wanted to hack through something and examine some sort of weirdly secret file, it would have been easier. A part of him wanted to believe that the things from his fantasy books were real, and the more reasonable side was saying it was highly improbable.

However, if he'd been able to find something as easy as this on the internet, there was no doubt in his mind that Cartman was already trying out one of the spells for his own.

The royal demon summoning page didn't give him ingredients or incantations, because they wanted to promote the book, not make an online substitute for it. It did say, though, that these rituals were best performed the night of a new moon, and required personal sacrifice.

Kyle frowned.

"New moon?" he said aloud. "Oh shit!"

He clicked off his monitor and grabbed his coat before running down the stairs. He slipped into his boots and went outside, trying to be as quiet as possible. He'd almost gone straight to Kenny's, considering the potential danger of the town being under siege of demons running freely and destroying whatever they pleased. But, he couldn't see himself without Stan in the endeavor.

Kyle darted down the driveway, tugging his hat on over his hair. It only took a few minutes before he found himself in front of his best friend's house, and Stan's light seemed to be the only one on. He hauled himself up into the branches, his boots not slipping in the thin layer of snow. The redhead could see Stan inside, playing one of the _World of Warcraft _knock-offs they normally engaged in together. He curled his arm around the trunk and tapped on the glass. Stan flinched and looked to the window, but relaxed a bit when he realized who it was. He opened the window.

"Dude, what the hell?"

"I think they're gonna do it tonight!"

"What?"

Kyle laughed, trying to shake off how dense Stan could be sometimes. It wasn't something he minded, not really, but it could make explanations more difficult than they should be. "We gotta get Kenny," he said, making room on the branch beside him. He held his hand out for Stan, but the taller boy didn't seem to notice, grabbing onto another tree limb instead.

They landed on the ground a few seconds apart. Stan had left his leather jacket in his room, and was only wearing a light coat. Goosebumps prickled over his skin and he rubbed his arms, trying to warm them up. At least it wasn't as cold as it normally was, but they were still in the dead middle of December without the sun over them.

"Damn, sorry, I should have let you get your jacket or something," Kyle said.

"No, it's—I'm okay."

The streets grew quieter as they made it to Kenny's house. There was that strange distance between them again, and Kyle noticed. He didn't like when Stan seemed distracted and he disliked it even more when Stan was reluctant to say why. Kyle didn't think it was just a dream that was freaking Stan out so much. It almost felt like any time they got in close proximity of one another, Stan would shy away from him.

He let out a small noise.

Stan looked up at him and recognized the expression on his face to be his over analytical one. They made their way to 635 Avenue de Los Mexicanos and knocked quietly on Kenny's window. He opened it, stripped to his boxers, hair messy.

"Hey," he said.

"Uh," Kyle faltered. "I, uh. They're doing it tonight."

Kenny went back to the shadows of his room, becoming a dark outline amongst the shapes. When he came back, he was in an updated version of his Mysterion costume. He pushed the window open more and got out beside them.

"Where do you think it'll be opened?" Kenny asked.

"We don't know," he replied lamely.

"Split up, we have ground to cover," Kenny said, and ran off in one direction, his cape billowing up behind him. Kyle and Stan exchanged a look. Kyle gave him a lopsided smile, and Stan shrugged. They started off in the other direction.


	8. Chapter 8

So sorry for the delay, everyone. I hope you don't mind my cheesy ending oops. Thank you all for reading this far! On to the last chapter!

_(line break)_

Wendy and Butters sat on the bench facing the pond. The chains on his cape made noise any time he so much as breathed. Christophe and Cartman stood behind them, told to not make a fuss while Damien did his work. Gregory watched, intrigued as the demon stopped beside a few limping plants at the edge of the water.

He reached for something in the pale air, curled his fingers into a fist, and he tugged. The atmosphere weighed heavier on their shoulders, and Damien tore out a perfect oblong circle from seemingly nowhere. Inside, it was filled with flames and dark, muddied shapes. A calamity of inhuman noises cut through the night, screaming and howling.

"I hope you don't regret it," Damien said, and he unraveled before them, vanishing from sight.

Disfigured creatures began to swarm around the opening, worming their way over one another and landing heavily on the snow. Some were taller than houses or trees, others were only as tall as a human. Cartman pushed past Gregory and Christophe, standing before the ring of monsters that were only the beginning of the flood wanting to come onto the surface.

"Excuse me, hello," he said loudly. "Yes, I have a few places I'd like you to wreak havoc, if you could listen for a second."

"Cartman, you can't control an army of-" Wendy started, but Cartman carried on, ignoring her.

"You guys go over there," he instructed, pointing in the general direction of the school. "Some of you can go into the actual town, behind us, yeah—try not to hurt the KFC."

"I'm starting to think that this wasn't the best idea," Butters said.

As the monsters headed toward different sides of town, it only took a few minutes for buildings and trees to catch fire or be knocked over. Christophe said something angrily about their God showing no mercy to the people in need, and therefore could fuck himself. Gregory jumped back as a long creature with a strangely large amount of limbs bounded toward him. It carried on toward the main street.

There was a low growl, and a dark canine with matted black fur crawled from the portal and shook himself off.

"Shit, they've got Hell hounds!" Christophe growled and dug a hole into the ground where he stood, peering out with a set of red binoculars. "I fucking hate dogs."

"Where's that damn news reporter?" Cartman searched the crowd of people being circled by a creature with a grotesquely humanoid face. In a wash of blood and the sickening crack of bone, Cartman promptly noticed the reporter's head as it was torn from his shoulders.

Butters hid his face in his hands, ducking behind Wendy.

"Fucking Christ!"

The siren of a fire truck jumped to life, high pitched and wailing. Three figures erupted from the crowd. One was engulfed in a dark hood and wearing a pair of underwear on the outside of his clothing. He seemed to be fighting some of the smaller demons viciously, his brown boots skidding across the pavement as he was knocked backward.

"Kenny, look out!" Kyle said, ducking as the tail of the demon came swirling over their heads. He grabbed Stan and pulled him closer, trying to get out of the way.

"Go find Wendy," Kenny barked, trying to keep the demon's attention. He could see the portal spitting more of its friends out from over the demon's shoulder. He was slammed down into the pavement, hair falling into his eyes as he took in a shuddering gasp. Winded, he tried to get back onto his feet.

Stan didn't slow his pace, weaving through a line of people running toward the ambulances and fire trucks. He heard someone say his name, but when he turned to look, the faces of the crowd seemed to blur together with the flames and thick smoke. His stomach turned.

Something bumped into him, a mangled figure with leathery brown skin and wings descending from the smoggy sky. It lacked hair on any part of its body, and its mouth was slicked with someone's dark arterial blood. The familiar voice said his name again. Stan felt someone's hand close around his own, and he was jerked out of the fray.

"I see Wendy!"

"I lost you," Stan said, fear climbing through him. He wasn't sure if Kyle had heard him amongst the loud noises overlapping behind them. He almost tripped over himself, but Kyle kept his grip firm and they didn't stop running until they reached the sign before the pond.

"Can you talk to her?" Kyle asked.

Stan blinked and swallowed hard. He nodded.

Kyle let go of his hand and practically threw himself at Cartman, buzzing with anger. Stan caught pieces of their argument as he crossed the snow and stopped before Lady Justice herself. Butters was holding onto her cape, trying not to show how panicked he really was.

"Stan, you're okay!"

"Wendy, why the hell are you working with Cartman?"

She looked back at Butters, and he gave her an undecipherable expression in return. She sighed and stared down at her snow boots.

"I'm sorry, I guess we're not very good super heroes after all," she mumbled.

"Actually, I wasn't ever a super-"

"Shut up, Butters. How do we close the portal?"

Christophe threw something toward the water, and a few moments later it exploded. Green and blue entrails were left in its place among the yellow flowers. Gregory appeared beside Stan, and for a moment, Stan couldn't help but wonder if the blonde would help him, and have their old rivalry set aside.

"You can close it from the inside," he said, and produced a diagram from seemingly nowhere. A key was drawn on the side, and the parts circled in red were the potential areas where the gateway could be closed. "It draws out your own life, and in exchange, draws back the demons and the portal is shut."

Gregory didn't add that he may have been hoping they could send Cartman in to close the gate.

"Okay. I'll do it."

Kenny's eye was bruised, and he had a few scratches across his left cheek. Christophe had left the shelter of his hole, and Kenny leaned against him so he could remain standing. He couldn't feel most of his body anymore, but he was the only one who could even attempt the job. It wouldn't be the first time in an alternate dimension, either.

"No, dude, you can't-" Stan started.

"Trust me," he said. He moved the hair out of his face and stepped away from Christophe. He wavered, but caught himself. "I can do this."

"Kenny, you're going to get killed!"

Kenny laughed. He got a running start, and then he jumped in.

_(line break)_

The words around him faded as he crossed the barrier. He felt the anxiety of something sinister surrounding him, the realm completely foreign and disorienting. His own heartbeat pulsed in his ears, and he tried to remember how it sounded, because he knew it would be silenced as soon as he closed the gate. He ran aimlessly, toward one of the black stone pillars, and he felt things reaching out and grabbing at him as he passed.

Kenny could already feel his sanity slipping away, melting from his mind. Was this a side effect from entering the portal? He tried to tell himself it wasn't too bad, he'd been through much worse. It didn't make the pain any better, but he grit his teeth and stopped at the base of the pillar.

The key was a small golden orb. He wrapped his hand around it, and it cracked. His fingers were cut and he could smell his blood, the only familiarity in this section of Hell.

In a haze of confusion, he felt the light from the orb erupt and it shot him backward. He caught sight of some of the demons being dragged back in, and he was growing weaker with each second the light enveloped him.

_Fucking hell, it hurts._

He hit the ground with a smack, bits of ice thrown into the air around him. The portal turned in on itself and shut, leaving the air where it had been as empty as it was before. He heard two voices;

"Oh my god, they killed Kenny!"

"Those bastards!"

He coughed, the after image of the light drifting over his eyes in distorted colours. He felt two people standing over him, strange shapes in the edge of his vision. His breathing slowed, slowed, and stopped.

Kyle was shaken from his thoughts when Cartman elbowed him in the side.

"What do you want, Cartman? You almost killed everyone in our town," he snapped.

"Pretty sweet, right?"

Kyle groaned.

Cartman reached up and fixed the raccoon ears he'd situated on his head. "Ugh, get all the sand out of your vagina, Kahl, it's not like any Jews died."

"Yeah, because I only care about the Jewish," he shot back sarcastically. Kyle paused. "Hey, do you think Kenny still has that dollar I gave him?"

"It's probably in his parka, shit wad."

Stan got a glimpse of his friends bickering over Kenny's body before he was enclosed in a hug from Wendy. His eyebrows shot upward, but he didn't wait to wrap his arms around her. Butters still held onto the edge of her cape, a few steps away from them.

"I missed talking to you," she said, giving him a small smile. "Are you...going to be okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine."

Her arms fell back to her sides, but she didn't step back. She caught him watching Kyle, and she examined him carefully. His eyes were slightly more blue than usual, hat pulled back to show his dark hair he kept out of his face. She laughed, and then called for Cartman to hurry up and take her and Butters home.

She fished around in her boot for a few twenties and pressed them into Gregory's palm. They exchanged quick farewells, peppered with promises to talk again later. Christophe grabbed Gregory by the collar and tugged him into the start of his newest underground route.

"I could always tell, you know," she said, motioning in the direction of the redhead.

Stan stammered and his face coloured.

Wendy dragged Cartman toward the sidewalk, ordering him to walk her to her door. Butters followed after her, and their voices drifted off the farther they got. Stan stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets, frozen in place. He watched as Kyle crouched beside Kenny. Kyle covered the blonde with his cape before returning to Stan's side.

"Are you okay?"

Stan shivered, but asked, "Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

"Maybe if you stopped giving us stuff to worry about."

The silence fell around them again. The fires had been mostly extinguished, and the remaining ambulances on the street were pulling away slowly with their headlights on and their sirens not blaring into the night. Stan turned, wondering if he should say something. They started up the upturned street, walking around rubble and cars with cracked windows.

"You've been acting really weird, dude," Kyle said. The rest of his words came out in a rush. "I don't think it's just a dream that threw you off. You keep ducking away from me! It's weird! Why do you keep _doing _that?"

Stan looked away guiltily. _Fuck this,_ he thought. _Fuck feelings; fuck acting weird, he's your best friend for fuck's sake!_ They stopped in front of one of the emptied stores. He almost couldn't hear himself when he said, "I didn't think you'd notice..."

"I'm supposed to notice," he replied, "and I want you to just tell me what's wrong. Did I do something or-?"

Stan leaned forward, finding Kyle's lips, brushing them gently with his own. A second and it was over before Stan could let the sudden shock settle in on him.

"I, um. Stan?"

"I didn't want to do that."

Kyle grabbed Stan's arm before he moved away. "It's okay, dude."

"What?"

"I don't care if you kiss me," he said.

"You don't?"

Kyle shook his head, and then they were laughing. They continued toward Kyle's house without a second thought. They stayed on the topic for a while as they walked, how this meant Stan was definitely getting over Wendy, and that Kyle would seriously hate it if he got barf on his jacket. Kyle smiled to himself.

The distance between them was gone.

Then again, so was half of the town's forest.

As usual, this result was drawn back to Cartman. Kyle listened to his friend talk about one of the more ridiculous looking creatures he'd had the pleasure to run into earlier, and decided he would just have to deal with Cartman later.

And their project had been doomed from the start.


End file.
